Chapter 10
chapter ten of bindle by herbert jenkins this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by don w jenkins chapter ten mr hearty prays for bindle mrs bindle had just returned from evening chapel on sundays especially on sunday evenings when there had been time for the cumulative effect of her devotions to manifest itself mrs bindle was always in a chastened mood she controlled those gusts of temper which plunged her back into the doric and precipitated bindle into ell dust and all on this particular evening she was almost gentle the bangs with which she accentuated the placing of each plate and dish upon the table were piano bangs and bindle duly noted the circumstance with him sunday was always a day of intellectual freedom he aired his views more freely on that than on other days having laid the supper mrs bindle began to remove her bonnet
with a hat-pin in her mouth and her hands stretched behind her head in the act of untying an obstreperous veil that rested like a black line across the bridge of her nose she remarked in that casual tone which with her betokened an item of great interest and importance mr arty prayed for you to-night bindle bindle sat up in his chair as if he had been shot arty wot he interrogated with unaccustomed anger in his voice and with an unwonted flash in his eye arty wot he prayed for you replied mrs bindle in what was for her a hushed voice a beautiful prayer about a brother who had fallen by the wayside a wheatear among thorns a prayed for me im bindle removed his pipe from his mouth and gripping the bowl between thumb and finger pointed what remained of the stem at mrs bindle as she stuck a hat-pin through her bonnet and placed it on the dresser ae prayed for me the words came with such deliberation and intensity that mrs bindle glanced round sharply yes she snapped an you want it you're nothin but an eathen mrs bindle was forgetting her careful articulation
a brother fallen by the roadside we side corrected mrs bindle as she banged a loaf on the table a brother oo as fallen by the wayside a wheat ere among thorns murmured bindle as if to himself suddenly he grinned the humour of the thing seemed to strike him prayed for in church leastwise chapel jest like the royal family an reign you're comin on joe bindle he chuckled seems to amuse you remarked mrs bindle as she took her place at the table you've it it replied bindle as he skilfully opened the tin of salmon you've just it it alfred orty was sent to annoy evan with his ims and tickle up joe bindle with his prayers if you was more like what he is you'd be a better man e is as eart e does flashed bindle with a grin then after a pause to enable him to reduce a particularly large mouthful of bread and salmon to conversational proportions he continued if i ad the runnin of this ere world there'd be some rather big alterations with a sort of end of the season sale an there'd be some pretty cheap loins in parsons and greengrocers naught to speak of chapel-goers
i'm surprised at you bindle talking such blasphemies in a christian ome unless you stop i'll go out not while there's any salmon left mrs b remarked bindle oracularly you're a bad man i done my best i'm sure you ave if you'd done your second best er your third best joe bindle might a ben a better man than wot he is bindle dug a morsel of salmon out of the tin with the point of his knife i been too well brought up that's wot's the matter wi me you're always scoffing and sneering at me in the chapel responded mrs bindle tartly it don't hurt me whatever you may think there you're wrong me blossom bindle was in high spirits his mind had been busily at work and he saw a way of bein a bloomin thorn in arty's wheat ear all i ain't a scoffer it's just that i don't understand ow a thing wot was meant to make people appy seems to make them about as joyful as a winkle wot feels the pin winkles are boiled first retorted the literal mrs bindle wiping round her plate with a piece of bread and bein dead don't feel pins i wouldn't eat them if it hurt besides winkles haven't anything to do with religion
that's what makes em so tasty retorted bindle you and earty ave sort o spoiled me appetite for religion but winkle's still old me after a short silence he continued i never see a religious cove yet what i ad any likin for leastwise what said he was religious it's a funny thing but as soon as people become good they seems to get about as comfortable to live with as an edge-og in bed funny thing religion bindle continued there was one cove i knowed who spent his time in avin d t s and gettin saved about alf and alf with a slight lean into d t s we called them suds and salvation suds bein his name for beer look at arty now e's always talkin of evan but e ain't in no urry to get there e's as nippy as a cat if e ears a motor ooter when e's crossin the road and e ussels like ell to get inside of a bus when it's rainin his life is not his own and he's waitin his call bindle looked up with a laugh ow'll ee know it's for im and not next door he asked i won't listen to your evil talk announced mrs bindle half rising from her chair and then resuming her seat again as if thinking better of her determination
when continued bindle imperturbably i ears of a place where the beer's better an cheaper than wot i gets ere or if i goes like a bunny after lettuce now you an arty knows that in evan appiness is better an cheaper than wot it is ere yet yer does all yer can to keep away from it and they're all the same that's wot does me if you wasn't such an eathen you'd understand stormed mrs bindle and my life would be appier you won't go to chapel and you won't ave a bath i don't old with all this talk o washin it ain't natural broke in bindle cheerfully look at the ladies wot do they do when they get sort o soiled do they wash not a bit of it they shoves on another coat o powder to cover it up i seen em doin it scarlet women mrs bindle's jaws snapped loudly yes an pink an whitens too i seen all sorts doin it which reminds me of ow old snooker lorched his job he was sent round by his guv'nor to a lady with an estimate for whitewashing an paper-hanging when she saw the price she gives a sort of screech of surprise this is very expensive she says it didn't cost little more than aft this last time
it's the right price mum says snooker i been through it myself he says but i don't understand says she well mum says snooker there's the sealants to be washed off he says and the old paper to be stripped off the walls he says and it all takes time but is that necessary says the lady weel mum says snooker quiet like yer wouldn't put clean stockins on dirty legs would yer says he she was as angry as an n an wrote in that snooker ad bin sayin disgustin things im wot blows a cornet in the salvation band o sundays wha e ain't got enough wind left on week-days to be disgustin with anyhow e lorched his job an the lady went to some one else as didn't talk about legs you ought to be ashamed of yourself joseph bindle telling me such lewd tales lewd wot's that queried bindle an abomination in the sight of the lord replied mrs bindle sententiously your talk ain't fit for a woman to listen to last time we was at mr arty's you was speakin of babies in front of milly i went hot all over
is babies lewd then inquired bindle innocently they're born in sin oh lord grinned bindle i'm always doin it fancy babies bein as bad as that you shouldn't speak about them before a young girl like millie babies is funny things remarked bimble replacing his empty glass on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his disengaged hand babies is funny things if yer want one it never seems to come but if yer don't want em it rains babies and for yer know it you've got a dose or two o triplets at three pound a bunch from the king there was airy brown e wanted a kid an e aided kittens yet is missus niver ad a baby though the cat was always avin kittens which shows as there wasn't anythink wrong with the ouse i'm going to bed announced mrs bindle as she rose your talk ain't fit for decent ears to listen to if it wasn't the sabbath i'd tell you what i think of you i'm going out announced bindle with decision at this time you ain't going round to mr arty's there was a note of anxiety in mrs bindle's voice it's past nine o'clock i ain't decided whether i'll punch arty's ed or go and get drunk i'm sick of all this umbug
whilst speaking bindle had seized his coat and cap and made for the door the utterance of the last word synchronised with the banging of the door itself bindle walked to the fulham road where he boarded an east-bound bus at beaufort street he alighted and a few minutes later was ringing the bell at five-fifty beaufort mansions the address given to him by dick little the door was opened by little himself why it's aristophanes he said with obvious pleasure no sir joe bindle come in man whoever you are come in you're just the man we want said dick little heartily at that moment there was a gust of laughter from an adjoining room i'm afraid you got friends sir said bindle hesitating on the mat i'll call round another night sir shouldn't like to interrupt you rot come in little replied dragging bindle towards the room from whence the laughter came through the door he cried out shut up that damned row here's bindle the immortal the momentary hush that little's command had produced was followed by yells of delight which crystallized into for he's a jolly good fellow bindle stood at the door listening in amazement then with a grin remarked to little same to know me sir seems sort o fond to me
no you bindle my boy there's not a fellow in thames that doesn't know and love you a toast you fellows he cried little seized a glass half full of whisky and soda a toast he cried to bindle the incomparable rival of aristophanes as a maker of mirth cries of bindle bindle echoed from all parts of this smoke-dimmed room and again there broke out what dick little had called the national anthem of good-fellowship followed by calls for a speech before he knew it bindle was hoisted upon the table where he stood gazing down upon some eight or ten flushed faces gentlemen chair please little wrapped a glass on the table silence ensued now aristophanes to bindle bindle sir plain joe bindle if you please then turning to the expectant faces round him bindle began his first speech gentlemen leastways i ope so you all seem to know me and likewise to be very fond o me well p'raps i might become fond o you if i don't get to know too much about your abbots i'm sorry to break up this ere prayer-meeting but i come to ave a word with mr little cries of have it with us very well then continued bindle i got a brother-in-law artie by name there were cries of good old heartie
seem to know him too p'r'aps yer sings in the choir at his chapel anyhow artie's been prayin for me to-night at his chapel and i come to arst mr little what i'd better do bindle's announcement caused a sensation of something of an uproar his voice was drowned in cries of shame just a moment gentlemen and i've done he called me a brother fallen by the wayside a wheat ear among thorns yells of laughter followed this announcement and bindle was pulled down and drink forced upon him soon he was sitting in the most comfortable armchair in the room smoking a colossal cigar with a large kitchen jug full of beer at his elbow he saw before him nearly a dozen of the most riotous spirits in london listening with eager interest to his stories and opinions which they punctuated with gusts of laughter the night was far advanced when at length he rose to go well gentlemen he said i never thought that doctors was such sports now i understand why it is that the ladies is always gettin ill so long an thanks for this friendly little evenin if i've talked too much you just come an ear mrs bindle one evenin an you'll be glad it's me an not er
as dick little showed him out bindle inquired ow am i to get ome on that psalm-singing brother-in-law o mine that's what i wants to know prayin for me in chapel bindle reaped his disgust on the match he was striking i'll think it over said little and let you know good-night and thanks for coming we shall always be glad to see you any sunday night different from earty's sunday nights muttered bindle as he walked away i wonder which makes the best man it's a good job i ain't got anythink to do with heaven or them wheat-ears might sort o get mixed with the thorns chapter ten read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark blogspot dot com
